


Lightbulbs, Umbrellas, Billy and Eggs.

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sunday Brunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15759135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: The Boys invite two couples for Sunday Brunch. It's always something!





	Lightbulbs, Umbrellas, Billy and Eggs.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts), [JaneOfCakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneOfCakes/gifts), [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts).



> Their friends are used to the disarray of 221B, so what do they all find so distressing this time around?

Sherlock enthusiastically stabbed his knife into the wood securing the article about their latest case to the mantle. He was relatively sure Hudders had stopped counting the number of holes by now, and besides, they had been brilliant in solving the abductions, and eviscerating a piece of the Daily Mail made him giddy with satisfaction.

 

The culprit, a madman with the appallingly appropriate name of Manfred Mozart, had kidnapped a dozen young women from the London Conservatory of Music with an eye to keeping them as his private chamber orchestra. Having snatched them at gunpoint from a gathering at a café, he failed to take into account that he had kidnapped an entire percussion section. Thus he found himself with twelve girls who played the drums, cymbals, tambourine, triangle, chimes, gong, glockenspiel, xylophone and, an invited friend who played the tuba.

 

Manfred had become so unhinged that he began haunting every music store in central London trying to buy music scored for Percussion and Tuba. When apprehended by Hatman and Robin, and Gaston Lestrade, Sherlock had smirked that even Anderson could have solved this one. It was in the euphoria of success that Sherlock had let his guard down and agreed to John and him hosting a small celebratory Sunday Brunch.

 

It was only later that he realized that George coming meant Mycroft would be there. To placate his lover, John offered an olive branch of inviting Molly and Mike Stamford as they seemed close to dating but just hadn't quite got there yet. So, after some pleading and some sensational shagging, Sherlock had acquiesced and was now awaiting the arrival of their victims, ah guests, on a chilly, rain soaked Sunday morning.

 

John was bustling around the kitchen whistling as he put the finishing touches on three batches of Mimosas. Pitchers of Buck's Fizz, Poinsettias, and Soleils were properly chilled and garnished with fresh fruit.

 

Sherlock sniffed, "John I realize an alcoholic beverage is de rigueur for this type of function, but THREE varieties? Seems superfluous to me."

 

"Firstly, you, it's Brunch, not a function. That makes it sound like taking a wee."

 

"Well, in fact consuming alcohol can lead to..."

 

"Quiet, berk. Second, a good host offers a variety. We've got the Buck's Fizz with orange juice, mind yourself with that one Lock it's two to one in favor of the bubbly, the Poinsettia with cranberry juice and the Soleil with pineapple juice. This way everyone can be happy."

 

"With this, everyone can have an ASBO."

 

"Says the expert in that department. Now make yourself useful and put out the champagne flutes, unless of course YOU want to go down and let your brother in. I see them coming to the door."

 

"By all means, John you are inarguably the more cordial of the two of us. And while you're at it, bring a lightbulb up for the loo. I may have neglected to replace it this morning after it went out."

 

"Course you did, your Majesty. Wonder why I put up with you sometimes."

 

"Good thing you love me."

 

John failed miserably at looking peevish and snorted, " Good thing I do."

 

~~~***~~~***~~~***

 

Despite being soggy, Greg and Mycroft were actually laughing softly as they entered the foyer their arms wrapped around one another as they shared the single umbrella. Since becoming a couple, Greg had lost his weary hard edges brought on by stress and the nature of his job, and Mycroft had softened into what might actually be called thoroughly human. It made John smile.

 

"Come in out of the rain, mates. Here, give me your coats. Mycroft take those umbrellas out of the stand and put yours in to dry out. Then go on up, I'll just be a tic, need to go after a lightbulb for the loo."

 

Greg shook John's hand, "I'll get that for you, John. You best not leave the one upstairs on his own too long, liable to get up to mischief. Besides, Mycroft and I can change the bulb without needing a ladder."

 

"Ta smartarse. They're all the same, just bring a box."

 

As John climbed the stairs and Greg headed for the storage room, Mycroft tended to his umbrella. When Greg returned, he found Mycroft leaning on the bannister looking a rather alarming shade of chartreuse. "Myc, you alright love, you look a bit off."

 

"What? Ah, oh quite. I...nothing to be concerned about...it's...why are you perspiring?"

 

"Me? Of course, me. Who else would you be talking to? Am I? Guess I am. Must have been the jog to the back of the building. Seemed a longer bit than I remembered. Let's go up to the flat."

 

"Yes, that would be advisable."

 

Once in the sitting room with their first guests, John was chuffed that Sherlock actually was pleasant. Would miracles never cease? "I know it's a bit early in the day for drinks but could I interest you in..."

 

John jumped as he was startled by both Mycroft and Greg nearly shouting simultaneously, "Please, yes. Anything you've got on offer."

 

"I've three kinds here, what's you pleasure?"

 

Greg huffed, "One of each will do me, John."

 

Mycroft, a slightly more proper picture of decorum, stepped in, "What Gregory means is we would be delighted to sample each version of your Mimosas."

 

"Right, Mycie. Ah, what say we start with whichever is strongest."

 

At that moment the knocker sounded on the outside door. "That'll be Molly and Mike. Sherlock you pour the drinks while I go down, and put out the pastries please."

 

The rain had stopped and John easily found room for the drier coats and ushered the new couple to the stairs. He briefly puzzled over why the usually meticulous Mycroft had chosen to prop his expensive umbrella unceremoniously in a corner rather than in the stand, but with a Holmes, who the hell ever knew anything anyway.

 

It was clear by how comfortable Molly and Mike were around each other that their relationship was blossoming. Mike fussed over Molly, getting her a drink and making sure only the biggest most beautiful strawberry was perched on the edge of her champagne flute. He was charmingly flustered as he tried to choose just which one of the small rich pastries would please the woman who he had come to view as the most beautiful girl in all of London.

 

After several rounds of drinks, everyone was relaxed and John decided it was time to prepare the main course. Greg announced he and Mycroft would take a moment to change the light in the loo.

 

Feeling puckish, Sherlock teased, "Both of you for one lightbulb? Something we should know, Garfield?"

 

Mycroft, well fortified, elbowed his way in front of Greg. "Come now, brother mine, even you must know that it requires two to perform a satisfactory screw."

 

Immediately Molly found herself clapping Mike between the shoulder blades as he choked on a last bit of croissant. With an uncharacteristic giggle, Mycroft urged Greg towards their task. Once in the loo he shut the door, giving in to a full blown laugh.

 

"What has gotten into you, Myc. Whatever it is, I like it."

 

"What it is, is what I found inside an umbrella in the umbrella stand when I..."

 

Greg grunted as he reached for the burned out bulb. "Whatever it was, it can't possibly beat what's alongside these bulbs in the storage room."

 

"Here, let me, darling, I'm taller. There we are. Well, I'll let you decide if what I found is..."

 

They were interrupted by Mike knocking on the door, "Need any help?"

 

Greg cleared his throat noisily, "Just coming, thanks."

 

In the kitchen, Molly offered to help and was told to get the eggs out of the fridge. John turned sharply as their favorite pathologist let out a high pitched squeal."

 

"Something wrong, Molly? Sherlock told me there weren't any body parts in there. If he left..."

 

Backing slowly away from the fridge and holding the eggs as if they were a bomb, Molly managed to rasp out, "No, no body parts, just me being clumsy. I hit my head on the shelf, can't take me anywhere."

 

Her nervous chattering seemed out of place, but John was reminded that Molly was rather a lightweight in the drinking department. "Listen, send Sherlock in here and you go have a sit down with Mike. He must be missing you by now if I'm any judge of things. Go on with you."

 

Sherlock sauntered into the kitchen and plopped down in a chair. "This has been tolerable to this point, though I suppose you'll be expecting me to eat."

 

"Eat and help me cook. I can trust you with the toast, yeah?", he said placing a fiery kiss on Sherlock's lips.

 

Nodding happily, Sherlock returned the kiss. "Yes, John. I shall make toast fit for the Queen, and the one in the palace as well."

 

John guffawed recalling the day of a sheet and no pants. "Molly seem good to you? She was a bit strange just before."

 

"Entangled in a romantic haze I think, but I will admit she and Stamford are, uh, adorable together."

 

"Adorable? I'll be sure to tell them you said so."

 

"And YOU, Doctor, will have incinerated toast points.

 

~~~***~~~***~~~***

 

Noting Molly was rather ill at ease, Mike made an effort at small talk, medical style. "You know every time I come here and see this skull on the mantle, I should feel odd about it. Thing is, it seems fairly normal in this environment." Picking Billy up he said, "Who are you and what stories..." Abruptly, he slammed the skull back down as if it had come alive in his hands, his face turning cherry red.

 

Greg grinned, "What's happened, mate, he answer you back?"

 

"Nothing like that, it ah isn't quite on to be playing with a skull right before we eat is it? I'm going to go wash my hands. Molly do you want to come along?" His voice cracked and his face grew even more crimson. "I didn't mean, I wanted to say, heaven preserve me! Ladies first?"

 

This finally set Molly and the rest to giggling as she fairly danced to the loo. When everyone had gathered again, John announced Brunch was served.

 

The meal was well received but the conversation had lagged to the point that John even allowed Sherlock to venture into topics of discourse that were normally strictly forbidden at the table. At the same time, the alcohol consumption by their four visitors was astounding. 

 

As each one was trying to summon a polite way to take their leave, a collective sigh of relief filled the room at the sound of "Whoo Hoo! Boys! Everyone still here? I'm home."

 

Mrs. Hudson, who had been the weekend with her sister, was welcomed as would be a savior in time of trial. After a brief chat with all, she made to go to her flat. This was the perfect excuse for a timely exit. Molly took her arm, offering a friendly assist down to the front door. The three men agreed and encouraged their amiable hosts to relax and they would see themselves out. Goodbyes were said all around and a smiling Sherlock and John closed the door to the flat and fell into a contented, tipsy snog.

 

Downstairs, Hudders began helping everyone into their coats and cheerily asked, "Did I miss anything good, dears?"

 

Molly being the most affected by the Mimosas blurted out. "They keep chocolate flavored lube in the fridge right next to the EGGS! Jesus!!"

 

Mike chimed in, "There's a stack of pocket sized packets under the skull."

 

"I regret to report", Mycroft droned, "there is a sizable pump container secreted in the purple umbrella in that stand."

 

"I've got you all bested", Greg puffed out his chest. In the storage room back there by the lightbulbs are shelves of it. Huge jugs of the stuff. Could last the whole of Europe until Doomsday."

 

Martha sighed, "Nothing new then was there? Oh well, hope you had a merry time, sorry I wasn't here."

 

Whether stunned by her nonchalance or simply giving in to the effects of the potent cocktails, the bemused and befuddled four headed out onto Baker Street and were on their respective ways.

 

~~~***~~~***~~~***

 

"Did they all seem a bit peculiar to you Sherlock?"

 

"Anyone who isn't you or Hudders always seem peculiar to me, John. But there did appear to be an undercurrent of something."

 

Peeking her head through the kitchen entrance, Martha clucked, "Oh you two. You see everything except what's right in front of you. Your guests were each rather surprised to discover some of your various stashes of lube during their visit. As I understand the story, it's to do with lightbulbs, an umbrella, Billy and the eggs in your fridge."

 

Sherlock stood imperiously, " Our colleagues are well aware that we are engaged in coitus, so I fail to see the problem."

 

"Christ, Lock! They're our friends, not colleagues, and I thought I told you to move that stuff somewhere else until after today."

 

"Obviously, I did not; but neither was it I who allowed Galahad to venture into the storage room. Was I meant to rent a skip to hide the dozens of ten liter jugs we have there? It's an aid to a simple sex act. We ARE supposedly all adults here."

 

Martha tittered behind sparkling eyes. "Sherlock dear, I think it was perhaps more a matter of the containers being labeled, 'Famous Shamus Anus Unguents' than the lube itself."

 

"A matter of practicality, Hudders. That's the only brand that comes in variable sizes and flavours."

 

"Too much information, dear. I'll be going to have one of my soothers now. I love my sister, but she can quite get on my nerves. Makes living with you a lark I'd say. Enjoy the rest of your day dears."

 

Standing by the window, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John from behind as the rain began falling in earnest once again.  
"Don't be cross, John. It was a resounding success all things considered, and your mixologist skills drew rave reviews."

 

"Never mind we scandalized everyone present."

 

"Can we not look at this from a more positive angle?", Sherlock whispered as he kissed John's neck.

 

"Positive? Meaning it could have been worse?!"

 

"To be sure, sweetheart. I WAS wise enough to relocate a particular stash to your footlocker under our bed."

 

"And that is a good thing how?"

 

"Just imagine, John, had I not moved our favorite collection of flavoured lubes. I doubt any of our "friends" would have survived knowing that we have THOSE arranged alphabetically."

**Author's Note:**

> Always remember, there's really no such thing as a safe hiding place at Baker Street.
> 
> Cheers to ChrisCalledMeSweetie who is moving back and forth between "Nonsense and Insensibility" and "Sherlock of Green Gables", JaneOfCakes who is moving on to Part 4 of "Persistence", and notjustmom who is just plain moving. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and be sure to share YOUR favorite hiding places with us. ❤️ Pat


End file.
